Tabula Rasa
by ItsMadness97
Summary: Ever since the incident, she doesn't know who she is, or where she's from. But she does have dreams of a man –very erotic dreams– and she's beginning to believe they aren't just dreams anymore. Takes place years after the TDW... LokixOC love story
1. Chapter 1

_I dreamt about him again. He came to me at night in my bedroom, only it was not mine. It was much more beautiful and grand— the kind that came out of a fairy tale. I was standing by an open window and he took my hand from behind, turning me towards him. The way he looked at me can only be described as the way every girl dreams a man to look at her. I stepped towards him and his head immediately bowed down, capturing my lips in a kiss._

 _Within a moment later I was laying on my back bare to him as he was me. He crawled over top of me, his eye contact never faltering and I could feel how much he wanted me as he brushed against my thigh. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I urged him on and he complied. As he rode me, I could barely control my voice at the combining sensations. I vividly remember looking up into his eyes all the while and became even more breathless at what I saw. His hair was freely flowing and framing his face elegantly as he looked down at me with his beautiful, green eyes; I was in complete awe._

 _It did not take long until his movements became less coordinated, less perfect because he was beginning to lose himself with me. An instant later and we reached our ends together. It would have been perfect if I could only still be there right now._

 _It's silly really, how he keeps showing up in my dreams, and always the same man. Black long hair, pale skin, and piercing green eyes. I often wonder if he's real. If he was, I know I would recognize him in an instant. My dreams seem so real when I'm in them, and when I wake up I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, and his voice in my ear._

 _"Mine," he would often say, low and whispered._

 _I would always smile back to him and respond, "Yours."_

 _He would always be pleased by that._

She stopped her pen. She had been recording her dreams in this journal ever since the incident. Her therapist told her that her dreams may help her to remember her past. Sometimes, she said, memories can return in the form of dreams. But her dreams were just plain baffling.

When she first had one, she felt ashamed at the vulgarness of it. But the more she had them, the more curious she became of them. The man in them was always the same. She did not recognize him from anywhere else, nor did she know his name. But his face lingered in her mind vividly.

She stared absently at the window, sifting through other dreams she had of him. He was her lover existing only within her mind, yet what she could not comprehend, is where he came from. He had too many distinct qualities that she simply could not have made up, like his long, jet black hair that framed his face giving him the look of a mad man; and the way he appeared out thin air, beckoning her to come with him; or the scars on his torso with origins she did not understand. Every detail she could remember as though it had been carved within her mind. But how could she have dreamed of man of whom she never met with such clarity?

She stole a glance at the clock. It showed 8:07AM. She had an early appointment with her therapist at 8:30 the first Tuesday of every month and she was never late. Grabbing her apartment keys, she made for the door. It was not far by any means, but seeing as she had no car, she would walk there as she walked everywhere she needed.

The walk was exactly how you'd expect a stroll through New Jersey to be. Her ears rang with traffic noises, her nose was filled with the scents wafting from food trucks as they began setting up for the day ahead, and the air was bitter against her pale skin. It was going to be winter soon, and she hadn't broken out her coat yet.

When she reached the small building, she walked over to the glass door and allowed herself through, thanking the heavens that it was warmer inside. After signing in on the clipboard, she was greeted instantly by her therapist, a tall skinny lady named Emily. "Good morning, dear. I'm ready for you if you want to head on over to my room," Emily spoke, smiling warmly to her.

As she followed her back, Emily questioned the girl, "Are you still going by Rose?"

"When I must," she replied glumly. She didn't like going by the name when she knew it wasn't her own. When she woke in the hospital, the older couple that brought her in left her pink roses. She remembered how devastated she became upon realizing they were the only gift left for her because no one else had ever came. Later on, when the nurse asked what she wanted to go by since she hadn't any form of identification, she said the first thing that came to her mind which was Rose.

"I think Rose is a lovely name," Emily replied sitting down at her chair, crossing her legs. Rose sat on the sofa opposite. "So what's on your mind today?"

"I'm still trying to find myself I guess," she supplied dismally and nearly methodically.

"No word of your past?"

"No, I haven't heard anything. Although there was this man once who waved to me and I thought he knew me. But then I learned it was meant for someone else nearby."

Emily gave her a pitiful look, "Have you been able to meet new people?"

"Yes. Well I mean, I have Candace of course."

Rose had known Candace from the beginning. It had been during her second week at the hospital, and Candace was brought in after being in a three car pile up. She came out of it with a broken arm and some stitches, but nothing longterm. Not like Rose.

"And James, I think he still wants to be more, but that's not–" Rose took a breath, "I just do not feel as though it's my decision to make. I mean, what if the other girl had someone of her own?"

Emily sighed and laid her flowered clip board down on the end table. She may have not been much older than Rose, but the look she gave her was the look a concerned mother would give her daughter. "That may be true, my dear, but you've been out and about for nearly two years now. Don't you think if there was someone, he would have came for you by now?"

"I just find it hard to believe that I would have no one," she said, letting a little frustration seep though her voice. "No family, no friends, not even a single person who cares enough to tell me what my name is."

"Maybe it's time to begin fresh and not worry about the other girl or anyone she might have been aquainted with," Emily offered. "Began making memories of your own, maybe with James."

Rose sighed. "Perhaps... I just wish I knew _something_ about my past."

"I understand you are frustrated as anyone in your situation would be. But you may have to accept the possibility that the person you're looking for isn't out there. You don't deserve to spend your life waiting around for someone to show you what kind of person you are. That's something you can find out for yourself."

Rose dropped her gaze, not liking the truth of her words. To believe them would be to strip away the only hope she had been clinging onto all this time. That maybe _he_ wasn't out there.

"Yeah, I suppose..." Rose was mindlessly looking out the window. Just like the dream she had that morning when she was simply gazing out the window right before he came to her and...

"What are you thinking about, Rose?" Emily's soft voice spoke after a few quiet moments.

She drew her gaze back towards Emily, a faint blush on her cheeks, and shifted forwards in her seat. "Do you remember those dreams I mentioned to you about a while ago?"

"The man with the green eyes?"

She nodded her head.

"What can you tell me about them?"

"Well they've been occurring a lot lately, and I'm not sure what to make of them."

"How often are you having them?" Emily asked.

"Nearly every night."

Emily retrieved her clip board. "Can you explain them to me or tell me why they concern you more than other dreams?"

"Well, when I dream about him, everything is incredibly clear– it's unlike any dream I've ever experienced. His face I can picture perfectly and his voice too. In fact, I drew I picture of him," she began shuffling through her bag. She then pulled the paper out and handed it to Emily, "Here." Emily looked at the page, "Do you think it could mean something? That he's out there? Or that he's coming? I know some people believe dreams are messages, premonitions even. If it weren't for the nature of these dreams I wouldn't think anything of it, but–"

Emily met Rose's hopeful gaze with sympathy. "Rose," she politely interrupted.

The girl stopped talking, and looked to her therapist, the hope immediately trickling down her face.

"We have no way of knowing that your dreams mean anything. People have had suspicions in the past, yes, but that isn't based on any fact or proof. The likeness that your dreams hold that kind of significance is... unlikely. But as I've said before, our dreams are often based off past experiences we've had in our lives, so while they may not be an exact replication of a certain event, they will consist of certain parts of one which leads to the likeness that this man _was_ real and was someone you once knew."

"That doesn't explain why they've been occurring more often..."

"Reoccurring dreams can develop during periods of stress. Perhaps not being able to fit in or identify yourself may have caused a desire for companionship and be the source of their reoccurrence."

The hope in the girl's eyes flickered, nearly going out. Emily handed the paper back to her, and she mindlessly took it, before staring down at the man she drew with such precision, every detail of his face drawn exactly how she remembered...

"What do I do?"

"I would advise that you begin by stopping no longer drawing pictures or writing down anything about him. Try to keep your mind off him as much as you can." Emily handed back the paper.

Rose took it in her hands, staring down at the picture. "So I should just try to forget about him?"

"You don't have to forget about him. You just need to learn to live a life without him in the picture."

Emily's advice, as sound as it was, did not stop Rose from thinking about him long after she left from her appointment. If anything, she thought about him more, contemplating over and over in her head, the idea of moving on without him. But it proved to be far more difficult then she had ever anticipated. Even though she could barely list a thing about him, she felt like she knew everything about this man. He had to be real. He just had to be.

"Rose. Can you seat that person at the door?"

She blinked her eyes a few times, after zoning out again– this time at work. She had somehow managed to bag a job at the diner despite her lack of any and all information regarding herself. They seemed in awe from her story and she presumed she got it mostly by pity.

"Yes ma'am," she replied to her manager. She walked over to the counter, "Hello, welcome to Jerry's Diner. How many?"

"Three," the man replied. He stood next to a woman and a small boy. A wife and son.

"Alright," she said, staring at them. "Come right this way." She lead the three of them to their table, requested their orders and was off again. She just wanted this day to be over. Her job, although she was very much grateful for it, was not career material. It was only meant to be temporary, until she could identify herself again, but she had been working for nearly two years now. Perhaps Emily was right. The old her isn't coming back.

* * *

Hi everyone. This is an idea that I've been wanting to put to paper for sometime. If you like it, please favorite or comment anything. It would make me immensely happy and more motivated to get the chapters out in a timely manner. Thank you all for giving the time to read this.


	2. Chapter 2

The gatekeeper stood motionless at his post, eyes searching too far for normalcy. He was swathed in armor of gold that screamed a being of power and wealth, and he was indeed exactly that.

Each day had gone passing without a trace of bloodshed for sometime now - ever since the encounter of Hela and her followers nearly three years ago as a matter a fact. There was much loss then, but one certain loss remained incomplete. Heimdall had always been looking for her, for the younger prince's sake mostly, but he couldn't find her. She simply had vanished and he feared that she would remain an enigma for eternity.

But it was on this particular morning something struck the gatekeeper's eye. As he looked closer, he found his eyes upon Midgard, the realm of mortals. Nothing seemed to be out of place or unordinary for that of Midgard. The sun still rose, and the earth still spun. He noticed too, many mortals going about their daily lives, children playing outside, trees shedding their last leaves of autumn. His eyes scanned quickly through the planet, about to move on to another world, until they caught sight of something he knew most certainly did not belong to that of Midgard. It was a girl, but not just any ordinary girl. It was _her._

* * *

 _I will not stop writing, not when I know he could be out there. He must be._

 _Last night he came to me in my dream. I was laying on my bed, knees bent up, absorbed in a book. I had been reading for some time it seemed, and I only stopped when he appeared in front of me, hand outstretched, and ready to take me away. I dropped my book, leaving it behind and forgotten as I took his hand. When he let go, we were no longer in my room._

 _The rest was, well, how it always is. Passionate. One moment he's kissing me. The next he's tearing off my clothes, his lips trailing down my bare skin as if he can't get enough of me. Then his fingers were there, and then his mouth. I am shivering at the recollection._

 _"You are mine," he whispered in my ear as I rode the aftershocks. He kissed me again, sweetly and urgently. I remember it being so good, yet it never actually... happened. Not in real life, anyways. When I woke up in my bed, I'm just frustrated like I always am, but not solely in the physical sense._

 _What if he's not out there?_

 _What if I made him up?_

 _He has been a light for me to cling to in all this. To know my life had something good before this incident. That I wasn't just a nobody. He gives me some from of identity. Of what my life may have been like._

 _To think that he isn't real hurts me more than I can bare. But if he is real, it means he has ignored me for two years. And I don't know which one hurts more._

With a reluctant sigh, Rose closed her journal and stood up to take a shower. It was her day off this week and she was going to meet her friend Candace for some coffee and afternoon shopping. Not that she could afford to buy much. She was barely able to pay for her apartment with the small waitress job that she had.

As she washed, her mind lingered on her dream. She felt a strange tugging at her heart for this man, as if she somehow missed him. In fact, with every dream she had, the more her body craved him, and the more her heart longed to see him, to be near him.

She shook her head. He's not real, Rose, she told herself, holding her head under the shower head for a moment. He's never coming for you.

She kept telling herself that in hope that maybe one day, she would believe it.

When she got out of the shower she looked at herself in the mirror. Strange, there wasn't a single mark even though she could remember his each and every touch as if it was lingering on her skin. Not even a single blemish marked her except for one scar on her stomach and back. From the looks of it, it was an impalement injury, at least that's the doctor told her. It's too bad that it was unlikely she would ever know the full truth.

Sighing, she went and got dressed, putting on her favorite skinny jeans and turtleneck sweater. She decided she would wear her hair naturally like she literally always did, but that was fine because it was quite beautiful. It was long and strawberry-blonde with deeper reddish undertones and laid in perfect waves upon her back. She then began doing her make-up. She liked looking natural so she hardly put anything on.

She gave herself one last look over making sure everything was in order before she was heading out the door and walking to the coffee shop, completely neglecting her jacket yet again.

* * *

"So, still dreaming about your mystery lover?" Candace asked, sitting down at the table across from her with a coffee in hand.

Rose blushed holding her drink (an earl grey tea) to her mouth as her eyes shined mischievously, "I am." Besides her therapist, Candace was the only one who knew about the man of her dreams. It wasn't exactly casual table conversation, so she kept it mostly to herself.

"And you are sure you've never met him since everything?"

"Yes, I'm positive. My therapist said the only way I could dream of his face so clearly is because I've seen him before. So I must have known him at one point in my life."

"That's interesting," Candace said, taking a swig of her coffee. "Know what I just realized? Maybe he never came for you because he was in the same accident as you and didn't..." Her voice trailed off

"...make it?" she finished and Candace nodded. "I considered that too. But they would have found a body. I was the only one there."

"Oh." She shrugged, "Maybe a bad break-up?"

"That is a possibility," she took a drink and added, "A _really_ bad break-up."

"So," Candace started, changing the topic, "My birthday is next week and I was thinking of throwing a little get together for it this Saturday. Would you be able to make it?"

"I'll have to see when I work. I really can't afford to ask off."

"Oh please Rose? James will be there." Candace winked at her smiling. Rose pursed her lips, glaring playfully at her friend. "Oh come on. He's so sweet and it's not as though dream lover is gonna turn up anytime soon. Just give it another shot," she pleaded, setting her coffee on the table.

Rose had tried it with James before. One date they had, and it was admittedly a very nice evening. However, the moment he leaned in to kiss her something in her clicked on. She simply could not let him do it.

"You've been single since the accident. You deserve it to yourself," Candace pleaded again.

She sighed looking at her friend. Candace was nearly impossible to say no to when she really wanted something. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't want it for herself either.

"Oh alright. I'll see what I can do."

"Yes! Thank you Rose!"

* * *

It seemed to take forever for the weekend to come but when it did she was pleasantly relieved. She arrived at the club Candace had chosen at 6 o'clock as per requested, wearing a nice, but not too nice, blue dress. They asked for her ID at the entrance and she gave them her temporary one. It only had her name, birth date, (she was 24 apparently), and picture on it.

"Ma'am, do you have another form of id?" The man at the entrance asked.

"No I don't. But John said this was okay last time," she said referring to the owner.

"Then if you could wait a moment, I'm gonna have to check this with him."

"Okay that's fine," she replied, smiling politely. She was used to this by now. Her id looked as though it could have very easily been forged.

"Hey girl." It was Candace who spoke. She apparently just arrived and she came with her boyfriend, Eric.

"Hey Candace, hey Eric!"

"Are they making you wait again?" Eric asked referring to her id situation.

"Yeah."

"You'd think there could be an easier way," Candace said.

"It's no big deal really," she told her friends.

"I could set you up with a fake id. It would look more real than your actual one does," Eric offered.

"Oh you don't have to," she smiled at him.

"Is James here yet?" Candace asked Eric and winking at Rose. James and Eric were roommates all throughout college, that's how the two met James.

"No he said he'll be running a couple minutes late," Eric responded.

"Rose?" She looked up and found the man holding her id, "Here's your card. Sorry for any inconvenience. You can head straight in now."

She thanked the man before stepping inside to the night that awaited her.

* * *

"Do they always play so loudly!?" Rose screamed over top of the music, blaring from the speakers by the band.

"The band only comes here on Fridays and Saturdays!" Candace shouted back.

Rose made an "O" shape with her mouth in response, and focused her attention to the dancing crowd. She knew already, it was going to be a crazy night.

Candace nudged her shoulder, directing her attention towards James who sat a little ways away scanning the crowd. "Look who's here! He's looking for _you,_ Rose!"

"Don't be absurd! It's _your_ birthday. He's looking for _you_." James made eye contact with Rose in that exact moment and smiled, and then proceeded to walk towards them.

"Yeah that's not why I invited him."

"Candace!" she shot her friend a glare who pretended to play innocent as she continued to bounce back and forth to the music. "What do I do?" she asked her, urgently.

"Go out there! Go dance!" she laughed, pushing her friend towards James.

Rose turned just in time to see James step right up to her, "Hey Rose." He smiled and then held out his hand, "Do you wanna go dance?"

* * *

"Good afternoon, Gatekeeper," spoke a man as he arrived to the edge of bifrost gate.

"Indeed it is," the Gatekeeper's rich deep voice, rumbled in reply, his eyes never leaving his watch.

"How fair the nine realms?"

"Good," Heimdall's voice boomed again. "In fact, they are flourishing in a way I haven't seen for many millenniums." His gaze panned immeasurably to the right. "One realm in particular has caught my eye. It holds something I, until recently, believed to have vanished."

"And what may that be?" asked the man, his black hair tousled by the breeze.

"Perhaps it is more appropriately who, that you should be asking."

He paused, "What are you saying Gatekeeper?"

"Precisely as you think I am. It seems whom you seek is not lost after all."

Loki stared blankly at the Gatekeeper, as if not believing his ears. There was only one thing that he had been looking for, one thing he wanted. But it seemed impossible now. At least that's what he had been telling himself to scrape away whatever sanity he had left. Yet the Gatekeeper, of all people, was telling him the opposite. And what good reason did Heimdall have to lie?

He then spoke the only thing he was capable of speaking coherently. "Where is she?"

"Midgard." Loki did not miss the irony of that. It seemed he could never escape Midgard no matter how many times he vowed never to go back, there was always something important reeling him back in. And this time it was the woman he loved.

"Will you be traveling this evening?"

Loki answered immediately, "Yes."

"Shall I depart you now, or would you like to invite others with you on this voyage?"

"Take me there immediately," he commanded, with a mask void of emotion.

"Very well, your highness." Heimdal placed his ancient sword into the center of the bridge, activating the Bifrost. It began to spin, very much like Loki's brain at the current moment. When it mustered enough energy to create a portal, Loki gave the gatekeeper an nod in gratitude before stepping through the gate and vanishing to Midgard.

* * *

It turned out, much to Rose's surprise, that dancing with James proved to be extremely fun. She always loved the idea dancing, but lacked the appropriate occasion to do it. After they had danced through three songs straight, laughing their hearts out as they did it, James suggested they go grab a drink and she happily agreed. Once they seated themselves at the bar, and ordered their drinks: Guinness for James and coke for Rose (she didn't want to ruin whatever chance she had to get her memory back), James turned to her smiled.

"You know, I haven't danced like that since my cousins wedding."

She giggled, "Its been awhile for me too. Who knew I had such a hidden passion."

"Yeah no kidding! You really know what you're doing."

"You're not so bad yourself, you know."

"Yeah, trust me, this is only after tons of practice in front of a mirror."

She looked at him one second and that's all it took for both of them to bust out laughing. It turns out, being around James wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be, and as the night went on, it only served further prove to her new outlook on him. Maybe dating him wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Candace sat at the bar, utterly pleased with herself. By the end of the evening, she had finally encouraged Rose on crossing the line to being something more than friends with James. Ever since Candace introduced the two of them, she knew they had something for each other and she had been begging Rose to give it a decent shot. Rose had always been hesitant until now, and she didn't know if it was the dancing or what, but Rose had certainly come more out of her shell that night more than she ever had before.

"Candace, you won't believe what just happened." Eric spoke tugging urgently on her sleeve.

"What?" She asked turning in her seat to look at him with her drink in hand. Eric pointed to James who was sitting at the other end of the bar, and ordering a shot. "What's he doing back here? I thought he walked Rose home?"

"He was, and apparently she left him for this other guy."

Candace's jaw dropped, "Wait, what? We're both talking about Rose here, right?"

He gave a quick nod, "Yeah."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know, James didn't recognize him. He said he was tall and had longer black hair. Do you know him?"

Candace's eyes widened. She then, after nearly throwing her glass down on the table, stood from her chair and ran over to James.

"Where are they?" she asked urgently, tugging on James' arm.

"What the hell?" James asked angrily, about to down his shot until Candace almost made him spill it.

"Rose and the guy she ran off with. Where are they?" Candace demanded.

"Not far. I walked her not one block over before _he_ came."

"Show me."

"Why?"

"Just do it okay? I think I may know who he is."

James looked at her a moment before finally giving in, "Fine." He finished his shot and slammed in on the counter before standing from the bar stool. "Let's go."

 **If you like it thus far, don't be disappointed, I have loads more on the way. In the meantime, let me know what you think - any feedback is very much appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, I don't want to spoil anything, but I think you pretty much figured it out... Loki is in NJ! I really want to be able to write Loki's personality similar in relation to how he is in the films. Only slightly less mad, because he's supposed to be recovering from well, everything and more, and this girl may or may not be the reason for it. So if I make him too nice or something, let me know.*****

 _Twenty minutes earlier..._

Rose allowed James to walk her out after the nights festivities. After his many efforts, Rose had finally accepted his offer to go on a date sometime in the near future. He was truly very nice and quite a gentleman too. In fact she couldn't name a single thing wrong about him, but it wasn't until recently had she allowed herself to discover that.

"So I had a great time with you," James said as they walked, side by side.

"I did too." She smiled back at him as they stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street.

"You live right off Montgomery Street, right?"

"I do," she nodded. "Right within McGinley Square."

"Great, I can walk you home. I live not far past it."

The walk light signaled them forward and they began to cross.

"You said you were originally from New York?" she asked, making conversation.

"Yeah I am," he replied, stepping up on the curb.

"Isn't that were the alien invasion happened?"

"Mhm. My father was actually in the city for his work when it got attacked."

"Wow," she said. "That must have been scary."

"That's what I thought. But he brags about it like it was this great tale. He'll tell us stories about how he helped Captain America fight off the invaders."

"And you don't believe him," she guessed by his tone of voice.

"No, not at all," he mused. "My old man is not the type to pick a fight."

Rose laughed, sincerely, loving to learn about things of the past, and as her head fell back, her eyes caught sight of the sky. "Wow," she said, staring upward.

"Wow what?" James asked looking at her. He then followed her gaze upward.

"I've never seen them so clearly before," she replied, eyes fixated on the stars.

"Yeah, you usually can hardly see them in the city," he said. They had both stopped walking. "The lights and pollution always ruin it."

"They're beautiful."

James looked down at her as he said, "Yeah they are."

As she lowered her gaze, and returned it back upon James, she quickly cast it away again, blushing slightly at the way he was looking at her. It was unexpected, but not necessarily unwelcome.

Sliding her hand down, mindlessly grabbing her purse as they began to walk again, she opened her mouth to speak to him, but no words came out. Instead after her hand had grabbed at nothing, she stopped her feet again and looked down.

"James, I–" her eyes glanced behind on the ground and returned back to James. He had stopped walking as well, his curiosity on what was wrong apparent. "I forgot my purse!"

His eyes snapped with understanding, "Where did you leave it?"

Her mind thought back to the last time she had it. They were at the bar, and she had hung it on the back of her chair. "On the chair– where we had our drinks."

"Wait here," he told her. "I'll run and grab it." James was gone in a matter of seconds.

Rose stood there in stillness for a few seconds, the remnants of a smile etched across her cheeks, and her panic slowly fading. She wasn't really worried about it being stolen– Candace was still there after all.

There were some tables and chairs where she was standing, but she decided to pace, walking the boundary of the Starbucks she happened to be beside, while she waited. It was a seemingly peaceful evening with not a whole lot of people running about and the traffic wasn't too busy. She could see Starbucks had already cleared most of their Halloween decorations and had already released winter flavors. She could probably use a warm tea right about now, it was after all, utterly freezing. But James would be back soon, she didn't want him to worry where she had gone, and it was closing soon anyway. So she continued her pacing, trying to warm herself; nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

She had just pivoted around, finishing her fourth lap. Her mind was relaying the events of the evening, especially the time she spent with James: the dancing, the laughs, the genuine comfortableness they shared with each other. But something in her path distracted her, or more accurately someone. Her first thought was that James returned, but once her eyes found the person, the thought instantly melted away and her breath caught in her throat.

Standing a few feet in front of her was a man, but he was no ordinary man. He was tall, exceedingly so, and his hair was long and wild and black. He was openly staring at her, with those emerald orbs, unmoving.

Blinking her eyes, Rose tired to snap herself out of her haze. She had done this to herself before, seen someone that looked similar to him and psyched herself out. This was clearly another one of those times, and with the amount of dreaming she'd been having of him this past week, it would hardly be surprising.

She smiled at him, admiring how real her delusion was. It was almost as if he was really there. He wore black dress pants, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and looking just as handsome as she remembered.

He began to step towards her, closing the distance in what seemed like slow motion until he was only an arms length away. In that moment, a fleeting thought popped into her head that she immediately decided to ignore because ignoring it was far, far safer. Instead she stared at him in wonder, noting the creases on his forehead, the chipped patterns of his breath, the intoxicating perfume of his skin, and his handsome height. He dropped his jacket, previously held in his hand, carelessly on the ground, his intense emerald eyes searching into hers.

"Amora," he said with a deep voice. He reached a hand towards her, his soft fingers just barely grazing her cheek and she flinched at the touch. Her wide eyes looked down to his fingers and returned to his face again as her own face dawned with realization.

Her heart began to pound, _hard._ She jolted back slightly at the first touch of his fingers, her mouth slightly ajar, and her blood coursing through her veins with pure adenline. The man of her dreams was there, right in front of her very eyes.

"You're here," she managed to say, barely above a whisper. Her mind was moving so fast, hardly able to contain the turmoil and disruption his presence caused her to have. Thousands of questions began coiling up in her head, things she'd been wanting to ask all this time. But the only thing she could seem to focus on was the mere obvious:

He's real.

* * *

Loki was trembling, remembering all too well the broken thing she'd created when she vanished over the Bifrost, as if she never existed at all. He could still taste the bitterness on his tongue, the remnants of the love he'd grown deep inside for her, the love that had turned into a curved blade to carve him from inside. He could feel it with each beat of his heart.

"H-how..?" He swallowed shallowly. "Have you any idea how long I've been searching?" He spat at her. "Have you?" He felt his breath move in erratic movements, like the rhythm of his heart, and suddenly he was furious with himself– with his weak heart, his poisoned mind, his feet as they were unable to walk away.

"Why did you – do you know what you've– _why?_ " His silvertongue failed in articulacy. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to strangle her, to _kiss_ her. Had she any idea what she'd done to him?

She continued to look at him with a bewildering mix of disbelief, shock, and was it... confusion? He couldn't tell.

Loki reached his hand up again, his fingers sliding along the side of her neck, running his thumb along her jaw, feelng her smooth skin and watching curiously as goosebumps rose on her skin. He returned his eyes back to her own. "Amora–"

She peered downward at his hand in wonderment and hesitantly lifted own her hand to cover his wrist with her own, her fingers softly grazing the skin on the top of his hand. "I don't understand," she said, unspoken words dancing behind her eyes.

The effect she had on him as they shared that small amount of contact was instantaneous and familiar, and he scorned himself for being this way still, after all these years – _pathetic._ But it had been so very long, and he was severely deprived of her essence that by being with her, like this, so close, everything began to blur. Yet somehow, nothing compared than to hear the words she would speak next, fall from her lips.

"Who are you?"

Something in him clicked, harshly and violently, and the blurriness dissipated. He jawed hardened and his gaze narrowed as he looked at her with sudden distrust, protected with a mask of nothing at all. Loki knew from the start something was off; her response was completely... _wrong._ True, she had been living amongst mortals all this time, but her reaction when he found her was not at all what he had prepared for. There was no familiarity or hatred or love or anything. There was only a great deal of confusion, and slight surprise. And then she completely threw him with those three simple words: _Who are you?_

"What?" he said under his breath. He did not know how else to respond.

"I don't know who you are," she said again, an odd twinge of regret flickering across her face.

Loki physically took a step back, allowing for her hand to fall from his own, staring at it as if it personally wronged him and realized he hadn't had a clue what was going on. He looked at her with unspoken confusion and slight betrayal. This was Amora, he was confident in that much. But why didn't she know him? What in the nine realms was going on?

He looked at her dubiously, his mind spinning on broken wheels until suddenly something caught. A poorly developed theory began to form in his mind. "If this is some pointless act to protect me or someone else, you need to drop this game right now." It may have been a little ignorant on his part but he couldn't help it. _Was she making this up?_

Her eyebrows as they wrinkled on her forehead for a moment was the response he received from her. _Oh_ , she played this game well.

She then tired to explain, "I lost my memory. I know you're from my past... but I don't know you."

"Do _not_ lie to me!" he snapped at her, desperation escaping in his tone.

"I'm not!"

They both reached an impasse and what followed was a moment of quick observation of the other. Loki's eyes scanned her. There was no hiding that she was frightened of him– her clipped breaths, unblinking eyes, and trembling posture were very obvious, but he pushed the matter away while his panic desolately searched for another way out, an alternate explanation. But he was running out of options, and the greater, ignored part of him knew he was fighting a battle that was already lost.

The theory would make perfect sense, she did seem regretful when telling him of her memory loss. But her words countered every indication. Why would she deny knowing him? Loki decided then to simply state the reason for his confusion.

"You recognized me," he tired in a final, desperate attempt to make sense.

Her eyes flickered in understanding, but before she could enlighten him, a voice shouted from behind her.

"Rose!" It was a mortal boy and he had called her _Rose_. Loki's gut tightened as a thought popped into his head. _How much memory did she lose?_ _Was it possible she couldn't remember her own name?_

The mortal approached her side, handing her a small bag. "Here you are," he smiled. "I had to go the front to get it back, some good samaritan turned it in. Thank goodness they did or I–"

The mortal ceased his tongue the moment his eyes caught sight of Loki. He then looked back to Amora and asked, "Who is this?"

Loki glared at him venomously, his mind concocting the worse possible scenario between the two. "I should ask the same question," Loki replied with an edge in his voice that matched his gaze.

Amora opened her mouth but before she could speak the mortal introduced himself. "James," he replied holding a hand out, entirely oblivious as to what he had walked in on. Loki ignored it, not entirely out of spite, but simply because he did not understand the gesture– not that he would have shook it anyways. James put down his hand awkwardly, "I'm a friend of Rose."

Both men glanced at Amora for a fleeting moment. James in confusion and Loki in borderline betrayal.

Loki's eyes returned to the mortal and narrowed. "A friend? Nothing more?" His voice was dangerously low.

James was catching on. He looked at 'Rose', who's face had paled slightly, and he made a poor attempt to settle the situation. "I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"Oh is that so?" Loki's low voice sounded, as he took a step forward.

From James perspective Loki probably appeared only _moderately_ jealous and perhaps a bit peeved, but in reality all Loki wanted to do was slam that guys head against the brick wall of one of the buildings and crush his skull.

" _Everything_ about her life, was once my _business_. Until she ended up on this rock!"

James' mind began to turn, "What?"

Loki closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath, refraining himself from using any physical means. His eyes opened to see James take hold of Amora's hand and he immediately clenched his fists. Loki had damn well had enough of this foolish mortal. He turned to Amora. "Darling, I need to speak to you _alone."_ Her eyes found him as he looked at her, pleading with his own eyes. "Please," he held up a hand, "Come with me."

James began to step forward to protect her, "No–"

"Okay," Amora answered at the same time. She released James' hand and turned to him. "James it's alright."

"I promised I would walk you home."

"I know, but I'll be okay from here."

"Rose... Who is this guy?" James asked, looking between the two with blatant confusion. "Are you two... together?"

Amora looked at him, unsure and apologetic. Loki's neither confirmed nor denied the matter, but he did remain looking at her through out it all.

James pursed his lips, "I see."

No answer, was also an answer.

"James–"

James gave her a polite smile. "Have a good night Rose," he said, turning away.

"James, wait–" she pleaded, walking after him. "You don't understand."

As she caught up to him, he stopped and asked her one question, "Will you still go out with me?"

Amora cast her gaze down, unsure of what to tell him.

He looked back with tired eyes, "That's all I need to know."

"Can I call you later?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her and she relaxed a bit. "I should probably go," James nodded toward Loki. "You have someone waiting for you. We can talk later, when you've made up your mind about everything."

"Okay."

"Good night, Rose," he said again before walking off again.

"Thank you James," she said, watching him go and then slowly, and somewhat awkwardly, turning back to Loki who had just watched the whole encounter. He had been clutching his fists so tightly through it, he was sure his nails had sunk through his skin. That mortal had no right to be by her side. Amora was _his,_ and his _alone._

Loki was aware however how unreasonable he was being given their unusual circumstances. He was simply frustrated and emotional, two things that did not function together smoothly on him. The situation just didn't add up. If she truly lost all her memories, then why did she look at him the way she did? As if there was more to be told? Not to mention the immediate trust she seemed to have towards him. A part of him hoped somehow, she still knew him. And that for some unknown reason, she was simply discomboulated due to the amount of time she had spent here – _that_ he could work with. But the greater part of him knew better.

Loki took a step closer to Amora, and turned his gaze fully back to her as she looked timidly back to him in nothing but a small blue dress. He wanted to cover her up, and prevent anyone from looking at her, but then common sense kicked in. They were on Midgard, and it was normal to dress this way.

"You recognize me," he said. It was more of a statement than a question. "How?"

"I've seen you before in my dreams," she told him somewhat hesitantly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. _That_ was certainly interesting and it explained her recognition. "And you've no legitimate memory of me?"

"No."

Loki nodded silently. Taking a few steps, he seated himself at a small round table on the edge of the sidewalk, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt as he did so. He then returned his gaze up to Amora, finding she hadn't moved an inch. "I need you to tell me everything you know," he spoke while indicating with his hand for her to join him. It was slightly pompous, but he was a prince after all and he didn't have patience to be self-effacing. In his mind, there wasn't anything more important then getting to the bottom of what happened during the past two years his lover spent away from him.

Her lovely brown eyes scanned him cautiously as she sat herself in the seat opposite him, the cold metal of the chair causing goosebumps to form on her skin. Her hands played with the fabric of her dress; it was a nervous habit of hers. "You never told me who you are."

He watched her very closely, "Loki."

"Loki," she spoke trying it on her tongue. It wasn't something he thought he'd ever get to hear again and he did not realize how much he missed it. "It's nice to finally meet someone who knows my face," she replied genuinely. "But I must ask, why now? After all this time?"

He leaned forward slightly, his voice switching to a more serious tone, "There wasn't a moment I stopped my search for you, Amora. You were much further than I ever imagined."

"Amora," she repeated the name off her lips and looked up at him. "Is that what I am called?"

"That is your name, yes."

"Thank you," she told him, unable to hold eye contact. He felt pity for her. How long, he wondered had she yearned to hear that? To hear someone to call her by her name. How long had she lived like this?

"What happened to you?"

She took a long breath, readying herself for her tale. "Nearly two years ago I woke in the hospital with no memory of anything: who I was, where I was, the name of a single person... My memory has yet to return since that day, nor has anyone come for me... until now."

He nodded silently, processing it all. Two years ago also marks the time in which he lost her. "And what of your dreams?"

"They are of you," she replied, her cheeks filling with a faint blush.

"Only me?" he asked, not bothering to hide his pleasant surprise and amusement.

Not looking to him, she nodded, her cheeks still holding that lovely pink.

"Do you believe they are memories?"

"I have suspected it, yes."

"Perhaps if you describe one to me, I can confirm it."

"Maybe," she said, her hands playing with the hem of her dress again. She looked up, "How did you find me?"

Loki leaned back slightly, a non-appreciative expression flickered on his face– he didn't like his question placed on hold especially when her dreams may contain elements that could help him determine what happened. Nonetheless, he decided it was only fair to please her for the time being. "There is a man, who sees all. He was able to find you and send me to you."

"Send you..." her voice trailed off as questions began to form behind her eyes. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Looking for you."

"For two years?"

He gave her a silent reply, sitting back into the chair. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

"You must really care about me," she concluded, quietly.

As quiet pursued the next few moments, allowing for that simple truth to sink in, he decided to speak what was truly on his mind. "Your dreams, do you recall anything different about them?"

She looked at him oddly, "What do you mean?"

"Are they repetitive? Does something trigger them? Are you ever unsure about what is happening in them?"

"No, well– I suppose they can be a little repetitive. And the places we are, well... I've never seen anything like them before."

"Can you describe them?"

Amora paused, dropping her gaze temporarily. "I remember this huge window. I always would stand by it. And everything, wherever we were, looked beautifully foreign. There were torches instead of lights, and the walls were stone instead plaster, and your clothing, I think it was leather and metal. It's silly really, but it's almost as though we've gone back in time, to a different world."

"How are they repetitive?"

"I–" she began. "Well it's not really repetitive. It's just– I mean we–" Amora looked at him, unsure, while the blush on her cheeks began to reappear. "Is there a purpose to this inquiry?"

Loki stared again the sudden color on her cheeks one second before the explanation suddenly clicked. A soft, yet mischievous grin formed on his face –of course, it would be _that_ she remembered. Not her treasured childhood memories or the pleasures she cherished out in the palace gardens. The palace banquet, or perhaps the day they shared in Vanaheim. No, in her slumber, she dreamed about a night of passions, with him; he didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned.

He reached her gaze and explained, "The events of your accident were very uncertain. Your recognition of me through your dreams may provide answers to it, depending on their behavior."

"Oh," she said, shivering in the arrival of a cool breeze. "Well I–I mean we... I do not know what to say."

"Relax, dear. You have been right so far."

She took a breath, swallowing her unease. "I am always alone when you come for me. And when you do, you steal me away and somehow we are somewhere else, usually a bedroom, I think it's meant to be yours. Then you... you make love to me." Her eyes began watering, and she gave a small smile as she wiped them with her hand.

He didn't say anything nor feel any humor this time. Instead he felt an odd wave of sadness and a urgent sense. He _had_ to get her back.

Loki rose from the bench, "Come with me."

She stood curiously and followed him. As he turned the corner of the block, she asked him, "Where are we going?"

He walked a few more steps, into a somewhat empty parking lot and turned around, taking a couple more steps backwards before planting his feet. "I'm taking you home."

* * *

Amora's heart lurched in her chest.

 _Home._ It's what she wanted for such a long time, yet why did it make her so uneasy?

"Right now?" she asked him.

"Yes."

Another cold breeze sent tremors down her body. When looked up to him, he was right in front of her, holding out his black jacket.

"Here," he said and her heart pounded at the suggestion. "You need it more than I."

Amora nodded in agreement, trying to remember when he had even picked it back up from the ground, and he gently helped her put her arms through the sleeves, his fingers grazing against her shoulders in the process granting her with goosebumps of an entirely different nature. "Thank you," she said quietly, cherishing the warmth it provided.

He was standing so close to her now. "May I take you home Amora?"

Her heart lurched; she wanted that so badly.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," he said, never breaking eye contact.

Her face dropped a little in disappointment– it was not a reassuring response.

"Perhaps the answer you seek lies within your dreams," he began. "When I'm there, how do you I make you feel? Nervous? Frightened? Or can you trust me?"

 _Safe,_ she thought. _You make me feel safe._

She felt his hand rest on the curve of her waist under the jacket, his thumb brushing right against her scar. Startled, she looked down, and back to him. He was looking down, as if he intentionally placed his hand there, as if he knew what lay beneath the fabric.

"What happened?" she asked, taking a shallow breath.

"I'll tell you everything when we get there," he said, his eyes returning to hers and withdrawing his hand on her waist and holding it out to her. "If all goes to plan, I may not have to tell you a thing."

Her eyes looked at him in disbelief, "You mean you really can bring my memory back?"

"There is only one way to find out, little one."

Amora stood looking back at her supposed lover, not missing the little sobriquet he gave her. It was clear, without the dreams, that she held some romantic attachment to him. And she desperately yearned to know everything she possibly could about it. She wasn't ignorant as to believe he could actually _bring_ her memories back, but he could certainly tell her, and that in itself was everything. So she did the only thing she could think to do, and took his hand.

He pulled her in close to him, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, his touch and proximity utterly overwhelming.

"I need you to hold on to me," he told her.

She pressed her hands to his chest, the closeness giving her sweaty palms, "Why?"

"You'll see." His voice then sounded gently in her ear, "Now, close your eyes."

* * *

Candace, Eric, and James stood a block down from where Rose and the man were sitting, partially hiding behind a tree.

"Should we go over there?" James asked.

"No, not yet!" Candace argued, "He's from her past. They don't need us interrupting."

"How, again, is it that you know that?"

"Because," she grumbled pulling a picture up on her phone and pushing it towards Eric. "She drew this picture of him a while ago. He's been in her dreams."

"She dreams about him?" Eric asked.

"You didn't see the way he was talking to her Candace," James told her. "I don't trust him."

"I see how he's looking at her now and I'm sure it was a misunderstanding." She replied, looking back over at the pair of them whom just stood from the table and began walking down the street. "Come on guys, they're leaving."

At the demand of Candace, the three of them submerged from the bushes, and crossed the street. Candace and Eric peered around the corner into the dark parking lot and James stood behind them, not bothering to look anymore.

"What are they doing?" he asked.

"They're just standing there," Candace said. "He's holding his hand out to her."

"This is ridiculous Candace," James complained, his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Just go over there and talk to her."

"I don't want to be intrusive."

"Candace," Eric began, using the voice of reason. "You are literally spying on her! I thin–" he stopped, distracted by the sight in front of him. "Holy sh*t!"

"What?" James said, looking immediately around the corner. He saw no one there. "Where are they?"

"What the hell just happened?" Eric stammered.

"What happened?" James asked again, more urgently.

Candace's eyes were as wide as she could make them, searching the parking lot. "They're gone."

Amora and the man had completely vanished into the sky.

 *****Yes, if you were wondering, Amora is the enchantress from the comics. I plan to incorporate some of her qualities but a lot of her background is going to be left out. She is essentially my own character with the same name and title. But anyways,** **I hope this played out to your expectations.** **More is on the way, so if you can in the meantime, reviews will be much appreciated:)**


	4. Chapter 4

At first Amora was confused when Loki grabbed her, pulling her in so close. She had assumed he probably had a car or a taxi they would travel in but she was sorely mistaken. As the ground fell out beneath her, filling her senses with a rush of energy and light, somehow she knew, deep inside her heart, that to go home meant to go far– farther than she could imagine.

The journey was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. And the longer her feet stayed off the ground, the tighter she clutched onto Loki, afraid of what would happen if she let go. She did chance a peek through her eye lids and what she saw was unbelievable. They were absorbed in light filled with every color as it whirled past in currents of energy. Her eyes then peered briefly at Loki while his gaze was set up ahead. There was much yet to learn about this man and she knew he held a story of misfortune. She could tell that much by the look in his eyes.

The moment they arrived she could tell because the air stilled and her feet felt the ground firmly beneath them again. Loki's hold on her loosened, "You can open your eyes now, darling."

Her eyes fluttered open, missing his touch as he let go, and immediately her jaw dropped. They stood in huge circular room with a dome ceiling and everything swathed in gold. There was a man who stood at it's center dressed in gold armor and his helmet fashioned with horns. In his hands he held a long sword, gold as well.

"I see you have returned safely back to Asgard, Lady Amora," the man's voice boomed.

She looked back to Loki, her jaw still ajar as she tried to form words, but nothing came out of her mouth. Instead she took an airy walk around the room and to the archway leading out. Outside she saw a city, completely made of gold with buildings more beautiful than the most gorgeous city buildings and a magnificent castle at it's center. She gasped, quickly stepping back. She had to be dreaming. This was simply impossible.

Amora swallowed, mustering up her courage, "How far exactly did we travel?" She was terrified, but she was also inanely curious.

"Immeasurably far," Loki replied. "Would you like to see more?"

Her answer was immediate. "Yes."

* * *

"She isn't answering." Eric said hanging up the phone and handing it back to Candace.

"And you left a message?" Candace asked, taking it from his hands.

"Yeah I left three already."

"This isn't like her. Rose would have answered by now," Candace said, pacing the Starbucks they took refuge in and staring down at her phone as if it may ring at any moment. "I'm calling the police."

"And tell them what?" Eric pleaded, "We don't even know what happened."

"Which is exactly why we need to call them!"

"We should have went over there, I knew there was something sketchy." James commented, slumped over on a chair.

"He looked familiar," Eric added, watching Candace draw the phone up to her ear.

"You mean you know him?" James asked.

"No, I mean he just looked... familiar. Like I've seen him somewhere before."

"Hello, yes. My friend just got taken by this man... No. Montgomery Street, just past the coffee shop," she nodded. "Her name is Rose. She doesn't have one, she was a Jane Doe case... He was tall, pale, black hair and well dressed."

James pitched in, "British accent."

Candace repeated, "and he had a British accent. Yes." She was silent for a few moments. "Okay, thank you."

Her thumb tapped the end call button on her phone, and she looked up to the two of them, "We're supposed to stay here until they get here."

Barely a minute passed and they could already hear a faint siren ringing in the distance.

"He said everything in her life used to be his business. I remember he got so angry when I took her hand. I didn't get it before, I just thought they were together."

"I didn't realized you talked to him," Candace said.

"Yeah well it didn't last very long. The dude had jealously steaming out of his ears."

"Really?" Candace asked. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing, he just wanted me as far away from her as possible. I told her not to go with him, but she wouldn't listen," he said.

Eric looked through the window, pulling the blinds down to peer through. "They're here."

* * *

The girl looked awestruck, as though she had never seen such a beautiful sight in her life. Yet she had, in fact, Amora had spent her entire life here in Asgard and the idea that she forgot it all made Loki sick. He needed to get her to the ward as soon as possible.

He only rode one horse down, so they would be sharing it back. When she noticed this, a nervous smile grew on her mouth that Loki didn't miss. Nonetheless, she accepted his help in getting on. After he mounted the horse behind her, he wrapped one of his arms around her, holding her tightly against him, and pulled the reins with the other. And with no time at all, they were off, making their way towards the castle. She didn't say anything more the entire trip back, and he assumed she was still taking in everything with no idea what to ask. That suited him fine however... he didn't know what to tell her anyways.

Once they arrived at the castle, a servant was already there, ready to take his horse. Loki hopped down off the horse and turned to help her. He took her waist and she grabbed onto his shoulders as he helped her safely down. "This way," he told her, gesturing to an entrance on the side of the castle, and then both of them, without a word left to say, proceeded onward just about to enter the threshold of the castle, that is until...

"Loki!" Thor voiced boomed from a separate corridor of the castle. Loki was currently standing in front of Amora, blocking her from his brother's view. It was only a matter of time he supposed until Thor would learn the truth, if he hadn't already. "Is what I hear true, brother? Is she–" Amora, curious as to whom was speaking, stepped out from behind Loki, revealing to Thor that what he had heard was very much true. "Lady Amora," Thor uttered in sheer shock. "Do my eyes deceive me or is it truly you?"

"It's her," Loki answered. "Heimdal discovered her whereabouts on Midgard. _Midgard_... all this time."

"I–this is wonderful news! I can hardly believe my eyes," he exclaimed, smiling at her. Amora smiled timidly, but was still stunned in silence apparently. Thor directed his attention to Loki, "Why did you not tell me? I could have helped you."

"It's done," Loki told him and then sighed. "Brother, she is unwell. I need to get her to the ward immediately."

"Loki, what is wrong?"

Loki opened his mouth to speak but Amora beat him to it, "I don't remember who I am."

* * *

Once they arrived to the ward, the nurses were quick to address the situation and soon enough Amora was lying on top of a table as holographic representation of her body appeared above her. They zoomed in on her brain, filing through everything there, but she was having trouble focusing. Everything seemed to pass by in a blur, in fact she couldn't even remember how she got to the ward. She slowly turned her head and searched for Loki. She found him on the far side of the room, arguing with a man dressed in the same strange armor that she saw Thor wearing earlier. He looked old and worn, as if he had lived more than a lifetime, and not just because he wore an eye patch.

There were so many different voices and she couldn't make out what he was saying. Not to mention all the questions flowing in her mind in an endless current. For all she knew she could be dreaming. It certainly didn't feel like reality...

"Miss?"

Amora opened her heavy eyes to energy swirling above, moving purposelessly. With a slight tilt of her head, she was able to focus on the nurse who stood, hovering over her. Realization dawned that she must have dozed off during the assessment.

"Have I been out long?" she inquired.

"Just an hour, my lady."

She sat up from the hard surface she was on and looked curiously about the room. Everyone was gone, except for the nurse... that's why she almost jumped out of her skin when she later noticed Loki, sitting on the other side or her, his chin resting on his palm and his eyes staring at the strange energy. He didn't even acknowledge her, too preoccupied with whatever was going through his mind. She had no doubt that the situation was hard for him. It was hard for them both.

"What happened?" she asked to no one in particular.

There was no response, instead the nurse looked over to Loki, as if waiting for his permission. "Leave us," he told her.

Amora looked at her, half-expecting her to be offended by his rudeness but instead she said, "Right away, my lord," and very obediently gave him a small bow before quickly retreating from the room. She watched the whole exchange in sheer bewilderment. What kind of authority did he have?

Loki still hadn't spoken a word to her nor had he looked at her, so she decided she might as well go first. "My memory..." she began, scanning her thoughts and immediately diagnosed that her mind had not remembered a shred of additional detail, "they couldn't fix it could they?"

"No, they could not," he responded, distantly. Amora expected that much, but with all the impossible things that had happened thus far, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't held any hope.

"However," he continued and her attention reverted back to him, "I have something else I would like to try." He said, standing from his chair, still not meeting her gaze. It was then she noticed his clothing. He was dressed in black leather pants, a tunic, and a green vest, topped with a cape, just like her dreams. It was very, very odd clothing yet he wore them very well and she decided not to question it for the moment being. There were more pressing matters on her mind that needed to be addressed.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"You, my dear are perfectly healthy," he began slowly pacing. "Stress levels are moderately high, but nothing..." his voice trailed off, and his feet stopped, as if his mind had gone else where.

"What?" she asked him when it appeared as though he was never going to finish.

He continued walking. "It is nothing of significance."

Silence fell in the moments that followed. Amora shifted on the table while Loki appeared to be in his own world, lost in his thoughts.

"Thank you," she told him, suddenly.

This time his eyes looked directly to her for the first time since they arrived on the bridge. "For what?"

"For not giving up on me."

He dropped his gaze, and simply absorbed her tribute, as if he was unsure how to accept it.

"Who am I?" she asked him. "To you?"

His eyes found hers again only his gaze had changed significantly. It was no longer distant or defeated– it was sure. _He_ was definitive.

He took a few steps in her direction and once he stood directly in front of her, he placed his hands on either side of the table she sat on, leaning down so that he was eye level with her. "You are _m_ _ine,_ " he told her in a low voice without breaking eye contact, leaving absolutely no room for doubt.

Amora heart fluttered and her breath caught in her throat, not for a moment forgetting her dreams. It was so unbelievably surreal to hear him say that outside the vague confines of her dreams and she practically drank it up. Then, not loosing a fraction of intensity, he brought one of his hands up to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline and her check. "You will always _be_ mine."

It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture, and her heart swelled at the comfort while she tired not to melt completely into a puddle on the ground.

He seemed to regret pulling away from her when he did. His eyes never left her and her own were busy absorbing everything about him, committing this moment to memory, as if she was afraid that by not doing so, she would somehow lose it again.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked him.

Loki looked at her, quizzically. It was, granted, an odd thing to ask and quite cheesy taken out of context, but she couldn't help but legitimately question it. How did she know this wasn't another one of her dreams?

They were interrupted by some commotion and murmuring coming from the other side of a door on the far wall. She looked past him and to the door but Loki, even though he dropped his hand from her shoulder, did not take his eyes off of her.

"You have visitors," he spoke quietly.

"Who are they?" She whispered, looking back over to him, still trying to make out the muffled voices.

He waited a second before replying with some hesitancy, "Friends."

The door opened and immediately she was greeted by a charming man with brown eyes, dressed in armor, "Lady Amora, at last! I was wondering when we'd get a moment with you! Loki simply does not understand the meaning of sharing," he said, approaching her at once as others trailed behind him. He reached out and grabbed her hand, kissing it as Loki muttered under his breath, _No, I do not_.

"I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again, my lady," spoke a brawny one with a long brown beard.

"Greetings, lady Amora," a man in a pony tail said.

The was a woman with dark hair and hazel eyes and she was smiling.

"Hello everyone," she replied uncertainly, intimidated by everyone's stare.

"You must never run off on us like that again," the bearded warrior proclaimed.

"Yes, and not for our sakes but for this one here," said the charming one, patting his hand on Loki's shoulder as Loki glared at him. "He's been quite unpleasant these past few years."

"Hmm, well– you do know how much I love the pleasure of your company Fandral," Loki replied sarcastically, reaching a hand out to Amora to help her off the table. She was perfectly capable of doing it on her own, but she happily accepted the gesture anyways.

She still wore his jacket, to which she pulled closer to her chest, covering what she now realized was a very indecent dress by their standards. She liked having it in a way, to be wearing something of his.

"Nonsense! You love my company!" Fandral said with glee. His eyes turned to Amora, a question burning to leave his lips. "So do the mountains there truly look like the bones of Aurgelmir?"

Amora simply looked at him, confused.

"And have you encountered the Midgardian serpent?" the bearded one asked.

"Voltstagg, you fool! The sea serpent is only a myth!" Fandral argued.

"No, I heard it was truth! It is said, Jörmungandr is so huge that he encircles the world entirely, grasping at his own tail!"

"Enough! Must I always be the one to end your ceaseless barbarity?" The woman shouted, as if exclaiming to her own children.

"Change? I don't need to change Lady Sif! I am after all, a _perfect_ gentlemen."

Everyone gave a laugh at that when she looked, except Loki and she frowned slightly at the sight of it. He shot her a brief glance before something in him snapped, "We must go."

"Oh please Loki," Fandral said. "You've had all evening with the lady. You can at least allow us these few moments."

"There are things that I simply cannot avoid tending to today," Loki spoke with some annoyance. Amora wondered briefly if he was going to tell them what happened to her. It was obvious by this point, that none of them knew about her memory.

"Oh I am sure you have much _tending_ to do together. A whole two years of it to make up for as I recall."

"Fandral!" the woman dispraised.

"Relax Lady Sif. I only jest, I only jest!" Fandral said laughing.

Amora spared a look a Loki, blushing when she found him already looking to her, seeming to gauge her reaction. She knew of course that they had engaged in such activities with each other but to hear that information coming from another man's lips so bluntly was a little unsettling. And then to see Loki look at her, she could only imagine the thoughts that slipped his mind in that moment. She wished she knew a little more about him, and the relationship they once shared.

Another man's voice boomed from further down the corridor, "My friends, is this not the most wonderful surprise!" It was Thor and she watched him as he joined the circle next to her. He was an impressively brawny man swathed in his armor of silver and red. "Of course had it been my brother who informed me, I would have been accompanying him in your rescue."

"Don't you think that was the point?" Loki pointed out.

"Ah brother, always so aloof."

"My lady, I don't think I've ever witnessed you so quiet. One would think the whole trip turned you into a mute," Fandral proclaimed.

"No, I am not mute. Only at a loss of what to say," she said smiling politely.

"Well I do hope your impairment is fleeting. We wish to hear all about your adventures in Midgard," Voltstagg said.

"If it is of no trouble, my father has requested we feast tomorrow evening in the lady's honor."

"Thor, I don't think that is wise," Loki warned.

Amora suddenly decided that, Loki was either being completely unreasonable or he was trying to make excuses for her should she not desire to attend. So determined to set things straight, she looked to the brother and replied sweetly before Loki could argue anything else, "I think it would be a lovely idea, Thor."

She could practically feel Loki's gaze darken at her, and she knew, then, that he had fallen to the former of her assumptions.

Thor however, gave a contagious, huge smile, "Alright then it is settled," Thor said before looking to everyone else. "Friends, it's time to leave Loki and his lady alone. Tomorrow we will ask her all about her adventures." Thor patted his brother on the back and Amora nearly blushed again at the sound of being called his lady.

"Until we meet again," Fandral spoke with a smitten look and she allowed him to take her hand and kiss it again.

"Do take your flattery elsewhere Fandral." Loki glared venomously.

"Never when there is a lovely lady present will I do so," he smiled walking off.

"Worry not, my lady! I'll handle the beast!" grinned the bearded one as he began catching up to Fandral.

"Beast? If I am a beast, then you, Volstagg, are the picture of a bearded Bilgesnipe."

"Ha! Then I win! — for you, beast, stand no chance against me," Volstagg cheered triumphantly.

"Farewell, my lady," the ponytail one spoke, scraping up whatever sanity his friends left for him.

"Farewell," she replied politely as the others left the room, their voices fading away.

"Loki." It was Thor's deep voice. "May I have a moment?"

Loki looked down to Amora who still stood at his side. "A moment," he agreed and stepped away from her.

When the two were far enough away, Thor began, "Has she remembered? Were the nurses able to assist her?"

"No they were not. But I may have another solution."

"I do hope you are right, but if it cannot be done–"

"I will find a way!" Loki interrupted.

"And what of the others? Until you find it, they will begin to question why she acts so differently."

"No one can know, Thor." Loki warned. "This stays between us and the All-father."

"Why must it always be lies and deceit with you?" He didn't answer and Thor sighed, "You know you have my word, Loki. But if she cannot not be cured, then they must know, if not for them, then for the lady's sake."

Loki stared calculatingly, as Thor took his leave, granting the two solitude once more.

She didn't say anything when he returned back to her. She hadn't spoken much of anything actually. He wondered what was going through her mind, and how she thought of everything that had occurred thus far and what she'd make of the rest. He supposed it would all unravel sooner or later.

Wordlessly as she, Loki gently grabbed her hand, pulling her in the opposite direction of the door. And a moment later they were standing in his chambers where all his supplies were located, so he could make another attempt on her labyrinth of a mind.

 **Do you guys like where this is going? I think this is pretty different from the norm, which was my express intention. If you have any suggestions, good or bad, feel free to comment, any feedback would be greatly appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

When Loki took Amora's hand, and she stepped towards him, she didn't realize right away that they were already somewhere else. It only took one touch of his hand for it to happen, and the realization left her reeling. However her astoundment was not bestowed completely upon his magic and teleportation, but rather where Loki had taken her. It was his chambers - she recognized it instantly from her dreams. Everything was exactly how she remembered - the book shelves, the balcony, the bed - down to every last detail. She had literally walked into one of her dreams.

Loki had been quick to leave her side to begin busying himself by going through drawers and grabbing bottles and papers, and for that he didn't notice her revelation. In the meantime, she took a contemplative walk around the bedroom, her eyes quickly scanning his extensive library, his desk with papers carelessly cluttered upon it, and the window where she paused a few moments to peer through. It was just as beautiful as she remembered, if not more so. She concluded her tour at his bed. It was simply enormous- far bigger than any king. She reached a hand out, feeling the silk sheets with her fingers– the very same sheets she knew that she had slept in before with the man who was suddenly standing very close to her. She jumped, blushing faintly as he held out a glass to her.

"What is that?"

"It is a potion I made for your memory," Loki responded, his eyes containing slight amusement in her already apparent blush. He must have guessed what she was thinking.

"A potion?" she asked.

"That is what I said, yes."

She blinked back his crudity in his tone. "I don't mean to pry, but what makes you think you are capable over the doctors or healers... or whatever you call them."

"Because I am the most powerful sorcerer in this realm. If anyone can do it, it's me." He told her, matter-of-factly. He took a breath - she could tell there was more for him to say. "That being said," he continued, swirling the liquid in the small glass. "I have not studied as intensely the ways of healing nor has it ever been in my interest to– I've always been more involved with battle tactics and illusions." He smiled arrogantly, "Luckily for you, I have every motivation to learn."

She didn't know how she expected him to respond but it certainly wasn't like that. Her brain kept reverting to what she already knew, and not all this other stuff involving his capabilities.

"This all seems absurd. I don't understand how this magic of yours can even work."

" _That_ is precisely why I have prepared this for you." He lifted the glass again.

She took the glass from his hand, eyeing the semi-brown liquid suspiciously.

"What we are going to do together, will tire you _immensely_." Her eyes flew up to his, widening a little and to her dismay, it did not go unnoticed by Loki and she could tell by the glimmer in his eyes. "Unfortunately, it won't be as pleasurable as what you envision."

She tired to defend herself, "I didn't–"

"Relax, I was only jesting." She gave him a flustered look. It was all very confusing to her. She simply did not know him and could not gage the chemistry between them. He continued, "This potion will open your mind, allow me to control what you see, perhaps find the memories you have hidden under lock and key. If I can find them, you are the only one who can liberate them."

She stared back blankly, wondering if she should trust his word or not. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that with everything that happened thus far, she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he did exactly as he claimed. "How do I do that?"

"You must figure that out for yourself." She looked down at the potion, cringing at the thought of him in her mind, sorting through her thoughts and memories. A stranger she hardly knew, yet knew everything about. Yet, despite her obvious reluctance, she had already made her decision to trust him the moment she agreed to let him take her away and she felt no reason to think otherwise.

"I am aware the amount of trust this requires of you," he began to reassure, "and I should r–"

Amora quickly silenced him by tipping the cup bottoms up and draining it in one swallow before any doubt could set in. She then handed the empty cup out to him, beaming at his slightly bewildered face and watched as it turned to a small, proud grin. He took the cup from her hands and vanished it with a idle motion of his hand and her eyes widened slightly at what appeared to be an everyday notion for him.

"You will want to be seated," he said, leading her over to the sitting area within his personal library and inviting her to sit. She sat down on the divan, her legs crossed and he sat down closely beside her, his body angled towards her.

Amora could not help but stare at him, drinking in his appearance. Seeing him in person was so much different from her dreams– so much better. He had a distinct scent she never could detect in her dreams and it certainly added to him, positively so. But his appearance was something she simply could not overcome. He was so unbelievably handsome and just being there with him, in such close proximity, sent an ache deep within her core. How could she not remember this?

His eyes found her own then and in that split second of eye contact she shocked herself by having such an intense, overwhelming urge to pull him in close and kiss him deeply. Fortunately, before she could dwell on the absurd moment any longer, he began speaking with his ever so tantalizing voice and the moment passed.

"Close your eyes." He brought his fingers up and hovered them above her temples, waiting for her eyes to close. She gave him one last glance before, almost regrettably, allowing her eyes to close.

Bracing herself, he pressed his smooth fingers gently into her temples. She then gasped at the sudden feeling his fingers supplied, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It was as though her mind had welcomed more inside, something foreign. It pushed on the outer edges of her mind gently at first, as if it were knocking on the doors of the outer barriers of her mind, testing her limits and the welcomeness it posed inside.

 _Stay calm_ , she heard his voice say inside her mind and she almost jumped out of her skin in response, but instead she simply squeezed her already closed eyes and then shuddered when he spoke again. _Your heartbeat. Listen to it. Focus on it. Nothing but your heartbeat._

Her heart beat, as she tuned in was surprisingly loud and strong. She began to feel dizzy, as if everything was floating away, leaving only her mind and her heart. Her body no longer seemed to matter and if she were to open her eyes, she wouldn't be surprised to see it down below as she drifted away.

Then the sensation, before she could prepare herself, suddenly switched from a brush to an assault. It was as though she was being pulled even further away from herself with the attacker. Her mind dimmed, and she felt lost and slight panic began infecting her mind and just as she was about to demand what Loki was doing, he spoke again.

 _It's there Amora_. Her panic instantly switched to newfound hope as she tired to see what he was talking about. _No, do not look for it. You have to feel it._ _Remember to focus on your heart._

She did as he said, tuning back to the increasingly hard drumming of her heart. _Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

For one brief moment and without awareness of doing so, she wondered if he could read her mind. After all, she could hear him speaking within her mind, it only made sense which jarred her slightly.

 _Your thoughts are drifting. I need you to concentrate, Amora_ , he replied, giving her her answer and also making her heart beat faster as if it wasn't beating fast enough already. _Your heartbeat, what is it doing?_

 _Thump, thump._ It was beating irregularly, she noticed - Loki's fault presumably. But it always continued beating, like an endless melody until she was utterly consumed by the rhythm.

She then felt something, faint and distant. When she couldn't reach it a wave of discouragement that she couldn't help washed over her. The feeling was just too far for her to grasp and she allowed herself defeat. So distracted was she in her inner failure, that she did not notice the pause in the other presence in her mind, and with her eyes closed she couldn't see the way Loki's eyes slowly opened and looked at her as her own disappointment infected him through the proximity of their consciousnesses.

Amora was truly stubborn, however, and she wouldn't let the looming hopelessness stop her from searching for that feeling. After all, her commitment to this was her only hope of getting back what she once had... or rather, what they once had. So she tuned within herself again.

Meanwhile, Loki literally watched her dismay turn to pure determination within the depths of her mind and he found himself grinning slightly as he closed his eyes once more. This was the Amora he knew well. The girl who was too stubborn for her own good.

As he delved back in, he realized all her thoughts and feelings since she arrived were proving to be of distraction and, to Loki's amusement, they consisted entirely of him. His proximity to her, his touch on her skin, her unknown relationship to him, and her dreams. Loki's curiosity grew at that point, he wanted to know what exactly her dreams were of him and how he appeared to her.

Unfortunately, he was afraid he would wear her out before ever getting to search for her memories, so he let that one slide... for now. He only had one idea of how to help her, though he had no reason to believe it would work seeing as he had never done this with anyone before. But with little else to try, it certainly couldn't hurt.

The erratic thumps of her heartbeat were beginning to lose rhythm, sounding more and more foreign the more she listened to them, but she kept pressing on. So wrapped up she was in finding what she sought, that she did not realize Loki's mind gliding about and finding what she searched for with utter ease. When he had made that part of her mind apparent, she immediately tired to press into it and contain in within her mind, but the moment she did, everything began to drown out completely and her eyes shot open.

"What happened?" She gasped, suddenly panting for air as reality forced it's way back.

"We lost connection." He spoke, lowering his hands from her head and seeming perfectly calm, despite it all. "We will try again once you've rested."

She was about to protest that she didn't need to rest, but simply mustering up the energy for her argument was already more energy than she had. Perhaps he was right after all.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"May I have water?"

"As you wish."

He was back moments later holding a goblet out to her. She took it silently in her own hands and gulped down a gracious amount. "Thank you."

He nodded, leaning himself against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. It was quiet when she took another sip of her water. She set it down on the table gently and glanced at Loki who was standing still as a statue appearing to be lost in thought. She watched him for a moment, wondering what could possibly be running through his mind that required such deep concentration.

"Loki?" His green eyes immediately found hers and she could literally feel the weight of his gaze return to her. "How did you do that?" she asked quietly.

"Magic. You've been on Midgard too long. It's understandable for you to find this all hard to believe."

She swallowed shallowly, and asked another question. "Is Midgard, Earth?"

"It is."

"And Asgard..." she said, remembering what the man at the bridge had said. "That's where we are."

"Indeed," he confirmed. She tried to take it all in. "Are you going to be alright with that?"

She didn't answer him. She didn't know what to say. Instead another question fell from her lips. "Is there truly any hope of getting my memory back?"

"I'm going to find a way, Amora. I'm not going stop until I do, I promise you that."

She nodded her head, swaying on the spot. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but her eyes were having trouble staying open.

"Amora," he said her name. She looked to him, vaguely noticing how her response to her true name had already became instinctive. His previously emotionless face held a trace of concern, "Are you well?"

"Yes, I am simply overwhelmed," she smiled reassuringly, "and a little tired." _That_ was entirely an understatement. Amora was exhausted to the point that she feared she may fall over in fatigue at any moment. Yet she couldn't help from asking him more questions. "When we were... linked, and you were in my mind, there was something– it felt so..." she struggled to find the right words, "... _heavy_ and I wondered if you felt it too?"

"I had but it seems I was unable to access it. Something within your mind is deflecting certain areas of your brain. If I could only figure out how to shift it–"

"Then I may be able to get my memory back."

"Yes."

"So they are there?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. They're there."

She sighed a breath of relief she didn't know she had been holding. But as Loki said, if they could only figure out how to get to them, which meant even with them there, the chances were still questionable.

Since they had reached an impasse on the topic, she brought up something else that was lingering on her mind, "Earlier, when I–" she trailed before redirecting, "Is your brother, Thor, an Avenger?"

"He is," Loki said, narrowing his eyes and seeming a little tense, "Why do you ask?"

"I recognized his name. I only was curious," she explained yawning. It had already been an extremely long night already but, in combination with all that mind meddling, it had really taken a great deal out of her.

"Perhaps it's best we resume in the morning," he suggested. "It's obvious you're tired, and I have a lot of research to do anyways."

"I want to help you."

"The only thing you can do to help me is rest." She felt immediately disheartened. "I'll take you to your chambers when your ready."

Amora had no desire to stand let alone go anywhere. Yet she forced herself to stand anyways, growing a little light headed at the motion. "I'm ready," she told him, after straightening out her dress and looking to him. Loki was there in an instant, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Sleep well, Amora."

And then he disappeared and so did his chambers. Amora was now in a separate room, smaller than Loki's but still quite extravagant, filled with all sorts of impersonal decor. After setting her gaze on the bed, she didn't hesitate to rid her dress, and the jacket, leaving her only her undergarments before promptly passing out under blankets of the bed. Although, while her dress laid carelessly on the ground, his jacket she held in her arms, pressing her face against it and falling into a peaceful sleep to the soothing scent of him.

* * *

The Prince did not sleep that night. After he dropped Amora off at her chambers, he retreated off onto a abandoned balcony in the Palace. He needed a moment alone, to think things through.

Seeing her again, after all these years felt almost like a hefty blow to the stomach. Her familiar auburn hair she wore longer now, reaching all the way to the small of her inner back in waves. He could remember how soft it was on his fingertips, how lovely it smelled. That small blue dress she wore that hugged every line and curve that he remembered and loved so well. And those eyes of hers were still enough to take his breath away despite how many times he had looked into them. But when he learned of her inability to remember him and any moment that they shared together, it was an even deeper blow to his stomach that hurt more than he could express. It was filled with more than just pain, but also guilt and regret and self-loathing.

Because of all this, being around her was nearly as agonizing as being without. She simply didn't know the things that happened before, the things that brought them both to this point. She had no experience of the complicated mess that he was.

Loki had never opened up to anyone, period. And he never had any reason to break that resolve... that is until he met Amora. She had somehow walked into his life and changed his will despite his unyielding determination to keep his emotions out of the picture. And Loki had simply stood strong for so long, and decided to let her in, and for what good did that do him now? All he felt was that hollow pain in his chest of feeling more alone then when he didn't have her at all.

Loki sighed and sunk to the ground with his back leaning against the stone wall. He simply sat there, staring hopelessly into nothing and let his thoughts consume him. He needed to find a way to get her back. He didn't care if it was selfish, he needed her. Besides Thor, who he had a questionable relationship with at best, Amora was the only person he could confide in. Without her memories, she was too... naive. He didn't know if it had anything to do with the association from her dreams, but she seemed to trust him more than she should. Not that it was terrible, but she reminded him of the version of herself of when they first met, and before she knew him. Her wide-eyes and curiosity, blindly leading her to into a forbidden, scandalous affair with him that could have very easily ruined her life. At the time, it was enough to strike his fancy and enough for him to take her to his bed, but now he wanted it all how it was before, like the selfish prince he was.

After spending an exceptional amount of time there, he decided it was time for a change of scenery and vanished back to his own chambers. He thought about laying down and perhaps obtain at least a few hours of sleep, but quickly cast that thought away. There was no way he could silence his mind enough to ever consider going to sleep.

So he simply paced his room a few times, contemplating. Then he sat down at his desk and tired to read and do some research, but he couldn't focus on the words of a single page. There was something looming in the back of his brain, he was sure of it, something that he was missing. So instead he grabbed the books from his desk, then wandered to his bookshelves, and began compulsively reorganizing every last title he owned - switching from alphabetical to chronological order.

And all through the night, his mind worked.

 ******* **Okay so I have a vision in my head of what their whole past consists of together. I wrote a rough outline for it and everything so if I need to reference it, which I often do and will, I can. However I was considering that maybe I would use the outline to actually write out their origin story - so basically a prequel and post it as a separate story on my page. It would be a big project for me to tackle but I want to do it, if you guys are interested and if you are willing to be patient. Any thoughts?**

 **Also, just wanted to add, I probably am going to have to resort to weekly updates. My already crazy schedule (with being a full-time student and also having a part time job) is about to be crazier with midterms coming up. But anyways, thank you so much for stopping by and if you can, let me know what you think!**

KittyBear98 - Thank you so very much! And as far as your question, Where exactly in New Jersey? I was thinking on the borderline between New York and New Jersey. So maybe Jersey City? I don't know much about the area, I only have been there once, so forgive me if I get some details wrong, however I do know a bit about cities. So i figured I could improvise.


	6. Chapter 6

**First off, I would like to apologize to anyone generous enough to follow my story because it's been so long since I last posted. A lot of things have been happening in my life but I assure you they will not stop me from finishing this story. So please leave comments if you like it, and comments if you don't. I'm curious to hear what you have to say about it so far****

It was with deep regret in which Amora woke the following morning. The sunlight streaming in through the blinds was terribly bright to her slowly opening eyes so she rolled over in attempt to drown it out and drift back into her slumber. But as she readjusted, her hands grazed against something smooth and silk. Not recognizing the material, she cracked an eye open to identify what the strange fabric was.

That was when her eyes snapped open fully and she abruptly sat up straight from her bed.

Memories began flooding their way back to her, as she clutched onto the material in her hands - which she had now identified as a cape - and momentarily froze.

It was no dream she realized finally. Last night was real – _he_ was real. After her mind had registered on that, she allowed herself to exhale finally, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

She glanced about her surroundings - she was in the same room he dropped her off in, and now that it was brighter and she wasn't so exhausted, she could fully take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the table with an assortment of food arranged on top. Someone, maybe Loki, had obviously come before she awoke and placed it there for her, after all, why else would his cape be here if he hadn't visited? She looked around, becoming aware that whoever came, likely may still be there. But after a brief assessment of the room, she knew she was alone. There was also another door leading to what she assumed was a small bath, a warobe, a full length mirror propped on the floor, pictures of unfamiliar artwork hanging on the wall, and a huge window - almost as big as the one Loki had.

Falling back down upon the pillows, she allowed her mind to replay everything that happened last night, unable to help the smile from growing on her lips. She remembered the softness of his hands as they held her own or grazed her cheeks. The intoxicating scent of his skin, which she could still smell faintly on his cape. And his beautiful accent, that matched her own, yet coupled with his rousing voice, she felt she could listen to him speak for hours about nothing at all and still be indubitably engaged. And don't even get her started on his appearance. He was everything she imagined he would be, and yet so much more.

So many questions she had about him. He asked of her to wait, so he could try his methods first, which she respected. And it had only been a day, but simply could not wait any longer. What was he to her? A boyfriend? Lover? Husband? How did they end up together? And what was her family like? Did she even have any? Where were they? Or how did she end up on an entirely different realm? Was it an acident? War? Intentional?

After an overly sufficient amount of time spent day-dreaming, she decided it was time be up. Drawing back the covers, she slid out of bed, still only in a bra and underwear, and made a beeline for the bathroom, deciding she would start the day with a bath. Shutting the door behind her, her jaw fell slightly. It was adorned in the same extravagance, and the bathtub was more like a small hot tub. She turned the tap, finding the temperature was immediately warm. So she went to the oils and chose the first bottle she picked - it smelled of fresh roses to which she always had a predilection towards. Ridding the rest of her clothing, she slipped into the warm water, cherishing the feel of it. She quickly realized she could easily spend the whole day in here if she didn't watch the time. It felt so perfect and she suddenly became envious of her former self. Had she always woken to this luxury every morning if she so desired? Loki did tell her this was her home...

 _Loki._ Amora's heart warmed at the thought of him again. Did _he_ ever join her for a bath? She smiled at that last thought and unconsciously bit her lip. He probably had.

The whole situation was simply unexpected. When Amora had dreamed of Loki coming to her, she never expected him to come for her so urgently, and bring her to an entirely different...well, different world. Who in their right minds would? Yet somewhere within her, this felt right, more than anything she had ever felt before. She couldn't explain it and it was against all other logic, but all this just made more sense to her - the way people talked, the extravagance, the formalities, the apparent patriarchy, etc. She may not agree with it all, but it agreed with her with indistinct familiarity. If her intuition was any indication that she should trust him, she did not know what was.

After Amora finished her bath, she wrapped herself in a towel and nearly began panicking over what she would wear before quickly finding her answer. Luckily, the person, whoever it had been, had also left her a dress to which she found lying at the other end of her bed. She picked it up, allowing her eyes to scan the foreignness of it. It was made of purple silk, with laces in the front and a delicate trimming on the edges which was long enough to go to her ankles. Overall, despite it's unusual fashion, she thought the dress was beautiful and a fitting match to the environment she delved in.

After slipping it on - it fit perfectly - she settled herself at the table. She went straight for the berries, tossing a few in her mouth as she scoped for other options. There was a large variety, some things she didn't even know the name of. She sampled everything and just as she began to wonder what to do with herself next, there sounded a soft knock on the door.

She froze momentarily.

"Miss?"

Amora stood from her chair and opened the door, finding a young maid standing on the other side. "Yes?"

"The prince requests your presence in the library this morning, my lady. I am to escort you after you are finished breakfast."

Amora wrinkled her eyebrows, "The _prince_?"

"Yes, my lady," she said. "Prince _Loki_. He said you would be ready around this time."

 _"Oh,"_ she replied in slight disbelief. Although, come to think of it, it made a lot of sense, she thought, shooting a glance to his cape which lay ruffled within the sheets. She hoped he didn't mind that she wrinkled it. Amora did begin to wonder however how exactly Loki knew when she would be ready by. Did he simply know her _that_ well?

Looking back to the maid she replied, "Okay. I suppose I'm ready now."

"Very well, my lady. Right this way."

* * *

Loki was sitting a little ways away, in a pile of dusty books, several of them cracked open, as he was apparently trying to read out through them all at the same time. Before approaching him, Amora paused, taking a moment to fully prepare herself emotionally for the breathtaking man before her. He was wearing the same clothing from yesterday, his hair unkempt and attention fully focused on his task. She frowned slightly– had he stayed up all night for her?

"Good morning," she said, alerting her presence to him.

"Is it?" he replied distantly, still fixated upon whatever it was he was reading. It certainly did not compare to the kind of greeting he gave her yesterday, not that she expected that. But at least some kind of interest in her presence would have been nice.

"What is all this Loki?" she asked him, with concern.

"Books, obviously,"

Amora reeled back – the bitterness in his tone _surprised_ her. Was something wrong?

"Have you stayed up all night?" she tried again.

He ignored her, focused wholly upon the overwhelming amount of information in front of him. She tired a more direct approach and stepped up to his side, "Look I know how much this means to you, but you don't need to sacrifice your sleep for me. I'm not going anywhere."

The book he was currently read closed with a loud snap. "Please stop–"

Her eyes furrowed in blatant confusion, "I'm sorry?"

"I will not have you speak to me as if you know anything about me," he replied, standing from the chair, intimating her with his height, and then walking away from her.

"I know these are very difficult circumstances for both of us," she told him honestly, looking at him as though she had never heard something so mental. "But I'm only trying to understand–"

"And I said stop!" he shouted, instantly stunning her in silence.

 _That_ certainly made her pause. What had she done to deserve such anger? And why was he acting as if she was the last person he wanted to be with right now?

"Why did you call me here if you clearly want nothing to do with me?" She asked him, angrily.

"That's not–" he calmed slightly, finally taking a step to shrink the huge void that he had placed between them. "That's _not_ what I meant." She watched him in silence waiting for any additional explanation. He then sighed, threading his fingers through his hair and briefly scanning over his texts before looking back up to her. "I'd simply prefer we'd _skip_ the small talk _,_ until your mind has sorted itself out."

 _Oh,_ she realized. It was with dread that Amora understood that he did not like her this way, at all. He needed her memory back, but what if that simply wasn't possible? She quickly cast that thought away, knowing she didn't want the answer to that quite yet.

She took a seat beside the one he previously sat in, choosing her next words very carefully. "For now, I will do as you ask. But I cannot - and I will not - wait forever."

He gave a curt nod, a small indication that he had heard her.

"I need to go within your mind again."

Now that he was facing her, she could see the prominent lines under his eyes as the aftermath of his sleep deprivation and also the sorrow within his eyes.

"Okay," she said.

"I'm going to push you further than I had before."

"Just do whatever you must," she replied, her gaze distant.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him return to his chair beside her with a glass in his hand held out to her. Remembering that it was a potion, she took it wordlessly and drank it.

"Are you ready, darling?" he asked, after he took the glass away.

Her eyes instinctively moved to look up at him at the sound of the affectionate little sobriquet. He may be distancing himself, but it wasn't because he didn't care.

She nodded, and he lifted his hands, pressing them into her temples, and just like that, she was lost.

Her heartbeat was the first thing she could focus on. It was steady surprisingly, unlike yesterday.

 _Good Amora,_ Loki's voice sound in her head. _Keep doing exactly as your doing._

 _Okay,_ she told him not actually knowing if she could actually communicate that way but assumed he received her response regardless. She started fading away again, being pulled by something she now recognized as Loki - or his presence at least.

 _Thump-thump._

 _Thump-thump._

 _Thump-thump._

There was an unmistakable feeling of his presence stiffing through other areas of her mind. She didn't understand what he was doing now, nor could she find it in her to care. All that mattered was her heartbeat – it was all that she had. The one thing she could depend on, that wouldn't falter in the changing of winds.

By now, everything had become utterly foreign, and she found herself completely lost within the depths of her vastly complicated mind. The only reason she didn't panic this time, was because she could still feel his presence within in her mind, and as long as she could feel that, she had no reason to panic.

A glimmer of something appeared and then it faded. As she looked around for it, it appeared again, more strongly. They were there, and she could see them this time. Images of places and people were suddenly passing through her brain, like a swarm of bees, flying just out of her reach. Not recognizing the majority of them, her mind instantly pinpointed and focused on the ones of Loki. Glimpses of him laughing were her favorite. In these moments he was open and unguarded, unlike the version of him who was currently sitting right in front of her. But in contrast to the others, there was only a mere fraction of memories that included him. There were many more of a younger girl with the same hair color as her. And also an older man and woman who bared a striking resemblance to her too... Amora's heart sunk in her chest as she realized with deep regret.

 _Her family?_

Regret filled her as it suddenly occurred to her, she had been so preoccupied in finding Loki, that she had completely neglected the existence of her family.

With renewed vigor, she scanned for more of the younger girl whom she assumed was her sister, and that's when the strangest thing happened. There were a string of memories that included the palace, and Loki too, but the emotion that rippled off of them was _astounding_. They instantly redirected her from accessing them, as if they were fighting back. She was pushed nearly all the way back into reality, and she would have been if it were not for how stubborn she was on the matter. She trudged on, tuning back to her heart beat.

 _You need to stop Amora,_ Loki finally spoke, warning her. _Your mind can't handle it._

 _I can do this,_ she told him, pushing on despite the struggle it felt to do so. _I nearly had them._

 _No, Amora. It's done._

His words and dejection was enough to snap her out of it, and when she opened her eyes back into reality, exhaustion quickly took the better of her, fading everything out completely.

* * *

As they parted minds, Amora immediately toppled over from pure exhaustion. Loki caught her in his arms before she fell to the ground, his mind still lingering on the information he had learned. He continued mulling it over in his mind as he scooped her up and vanished them both to his chambers, where his more advanced magic books were kept.

After gently placing her on his bed - it would be a while until she regained consciousness again - he settled for a contemplative walk around his chambers.

What ever was within her mind, preventing her memories from resurfacing - it wasn't blocking certain parts of her brain like he had first perceived. It was defending itself.

That small detail made a huge difference.

Because something mindlessly blocking versus something fighting back meant that he couldn't simply find it – _no_. That would be too easy. He had to fight back.

But her dreams are what astounded him the most, especially now that he'd had the pleasure of viewing some of them. He didn't think she would notice him stifling through other parts of her brain, so he took full advantage. He learned she was true to her word, and Amora remembered nothing prior to two years ago with the exception of these dreams. But why allow her glimpses of anything, least of all him? What was the motivation of this thing?

He wandered back over to her, simply gazing upon her form. How beautiful she was, how lovely the sight of her in his bed looked. And how, now that her features had loosened, her face held no trace of worry or confusion. It was almost as though none of this had ever happened and that she was simply sleeping the day in his bed.

Oh, how he wished that were true - how simpler life would be. He would crawl into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and waking her up with a a kiss to her neck. When her eyes fluttered open he would kiss those lovely red lips, until it no longer was enough. He could easily waste an entire day away in his bed with her, if only she could remember.

But that simply was not the way that things were and reality was a harsh place. He knew that for a while now.

Instead he took her hand, turning it over and held it within his own. It was soft and warm, and he leaned down and kissed it. "I'm going to fix you, little one."

* * *

KittyBear98 Thank you!

Kathrynrose42 Thank you - I'm so glad that you like it!


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